


Between the Sheets

by greeneggs101, Violet_Janou



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:12:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeneggs101/pseuds/greeneggs101, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Janou/pseuds/Violet_Janou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are several interesting scenes in A Scandal in Belgravia. This is just an interpretation of what happened between those scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a text exchange between me (Green-eggs) and Violet when one of us posed the question of why Mrs. Hudson was making John and Sherlock dinner when she wasn't their housekeeper? One of us answered "Because they just had sex for the first time of course!" and that evolved into this. 
> 
> Edited to the best of our abilities but it's not brit-picked for the reason that neither of us is British (unfortunately). Please enjoy nonetheless.

Ahh…

Sherlock sat up at the unexpected noise. He turned and looked at the door John just closed. 

Ah, there’s his coat.

Sherlock took a few shaky steps towards the coat and grabbed his phone out of the pocket. On closer inspection, it looked like the noise came from a text alert. 

Till the next time, Mr. Holmes. 

Sherlock stared at the text, but it still didn’t make much sense. His mind still wasn’t functioning properly due to the drugs and Sherlock discovered that he was still too tired to think about it.

Maybe John would know.

He opened the door and took a few shaky steps outside. He found John in the kitchen looking over the newspaper he never got to read this morning. John looked up when he heard footsteps. He saw Sherlock, stood up and smiled. “I thought I told you to go back to sleep. Do you need something?”

Sherlock forgot all about his phone. He saw John standing there in the kitchen light and Sherlock was struck by an unusual thought. John looks like he needs a hug.

It was probably the drugs talking but Sherlock decided that he probably needed a hug too and so he slipped his phone into his back pocket and took a few steadier steps towards John. “Don’t you need to sleep too?”

John turned back to the newspaper. “I’m still to hyped up on adrenaline. You know this is the third time I’ve had someone point a gun in my face because of you.”

Sherlock pouted and snuck closer. “Sorry…Occupational hazard.”

He heard John give a chuckle. “I’m not blaming you, it just makes it a bit harder to go to sleep with all the left over adrenal—SHERLOCK!” John gave a shout when he felt Sherlock’s arms encircle him. 

Sherlock laid his head on John’s good shoulder sleepily. “Sorry…you looked hug-able”. 

“Hug-able?”

“Shut up. Brain not thinking.”

“That’s a first.” John recovered from his initial shock and lad his own arms over Sherlock’s and leaned back into the hug. He seemed content to stay there so Sherlock didn’t let go.

But he soon found himself with another problem. Due to their position, John’s arse was perfectly nestled up to Sherlock’s crotch and Sherlock felt a certain part of his anatomy becoming interested in this development. John hadn’t seemed to notice yet.

It may have been the drugs, but Sherlock couldn’t find a single reason to pull away yet and so he began to move his hands gently up and down John’s chest. John gave a little unintentional groan and shifted slightly.

The shifting of John’s arse against Sherlock’s crotch caused Sherlock’s prick to go from interested to extremely excited. 

“Sherlock?” John began to question but Sherlock silenced him with a small kiss to his neck. 

John began to shift some more but didn’t try to break Sherlock’s hold. Sherlock took that as an opportunity to fully wrap an arm around John’s chest and pull him closer. His other hand trailed down and found that John was just as interested in the unexpected activities as Sherlock.

Suddenly John turned around in Sherlock’s arms. Sherlock was about to protest but found that he was silenced by a pair of lips on his own.

Huh…kissing…kissing is nice, were the only thoughts running through Sherlock’s head. 

Luckily, John seemed to have maintained some brainpower as he began to move Sherlock backwards. Sherlock was confused at first till he felt the back of his legs hit the edge of the sofa.

John pushed him down, breaking the kiss momentarily while Sherlock situated himself to lie fully horizontal across the couch. The John crawled on top of him and reconnected their lips.

John clutched at Sherlock’s top while Sherlock’s hands grabbed at John’s lower back. John began that shifting thing again and for a moment Sherlock wasn’t sure if he was ever going to remember how to breathe again. He briefly remembered his own words while lying on this very couch.

Breathing is boring.

No words have ever sounded truer as John continued to kiss and grind against Sherlock. 

Unfortunately Sherlock’s body betrayed him as he broke the kiss to take in gulps of air. John seemed to be ok with this development as his kisses trailed down Sherlock’s jaw to his neck. Sherlock was perfectly ok with this as his hands migrated from John’s back to his arse to pull John tighter against him.

John gasped. “Yes…” and resumed his kisses. Then he gave a small bite to Sherlock’s collarbone.

Sherlock’s vision blacked out and overwhelming pleasure overtook him. He pulled John tighter against him and he heard John gasp loudly.

When Sherlock’s vision returned it was to John collapsed above him panting. Sherlock moved his hands back up to John’s upper back and hugged him close. 

He didn’t miss it though when John gave a small flinch of pain. “What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked worriedly. 

John flushed a bit, getting slightly embarrassed now that hormones weren’t in control. “Nothing, my shoulder just aches a bit.”

Sherlock frowned. John really shouldn’t be in pain. Maybe doctors need help with pain too. Sherlock had a brief vision of something his mother did for him once.

Sherlock started undoing John’s shirt buttons. John reached up to stop him but Sherlock persisted. “I’m going to kiss it better.” Sherlock explained.

John gave a slight chucked but helped Sherlock with the rest of the buttons. When they were completely undone Sherlock pulled the shirt far enough away from the shoulder to reveal the scar. It was pale and raised and Sherlock gave it a small kiss and then began to kiss the surrounding area much like how John was doing to his own neck earlier. 

John gave a soft moan and Sherlock felt John starting to get hard again. “Is this a turn on?”

John’s returning chuckle turned into a moan when Sherlock began kissing the scar again. “Must be…I didn’t know about it.” He let Sherlock kiss a little longer before pushing away.

Sherlock began to pout until he heard what John was saying. “Want to move this to the bedroom?”

Sherlock looked towards the still open door. “Mine’s closer.”

They made their way to the bedroom as quickly as they could and shut the door behind them. 

~~~

John awoke the next morning briefly confused. He was naked and not in his own bed. Then he rolled over and found Sherlock sleeping peacefully and John grinned for a second. 

Last night had been wonderful. 

John waited briefly for the frantic thoughts about a sexuality crisis to run about in his mind, but none came. John mentally shrugged. Maybe that will happen later.

He climbed out of bed and searched through the piles of clothes to find his own. He forged the spoiled underpants and pulled his trousers on. Searching for a clean t-shirt he spotted one of his lightweight jumpers sitting in the corner by Sherlock’s bed. It was one he hadn’t seen in a while and he briefly questioned its presence in Sherlock’s room but then decided that it was Sherlock and it was best not to ask. Pulling it on he opened the door and smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen.

He walked cautiously out to the kitchen and found Mrs. Hudson by the stove cooking what looked like breakfast.

“Mrs. Hudson?”

Mrs. Hudson looked up. “Ah John dearie. Just making you boys up some breakfast. Thought you deserved a little celebration.”

“Celebration?”

Mrs. Hudson nodded and looked briefly at John. “I’m old dearie. Not deaf.”

John flushed as he caught her meaning and plunked down in the chair. “Oh…sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry dearie, just try to be a little quieter next time. Sherlock does have a pair of lungs on him doesn’t he?” She sat a plate in front of John and returned to the kitchen to make a second.

John’s flushed face darkened and he looked down towards his food but didn’t answer.

Sherlock came out and John was so relieved that he decided to put clothes on. His dressing gown was around his shoulders as well. He spared John a long stare before sitting in his own seat and turning towards the kitchen.

“Tea for me thanks.”

“Not your housekeeper dear.”

Then, there came a knock on the door and much to John and Sherlock’s dismay, it was Mycroft coming to collect a phone they didn’t have.

Then the day got a big more interesting.

~~~

A few weeks later

Sherlock and John never talked about what happened and neither had brought it up so when John was asked out by Jeanette the teacher, he accepted. He told Sherlock when he went out on their first date and Sherlock didn’t say anything, so John didn’t either. After all, it was just a one-time thing.

Jeanette’s parents were out of town for Christmas so John invited her to his flat. He didn’t tell her about Sherlock till the night before and Jeanette seemed prepared.

He shouldn’t have known something would have happened.

You’re a great boyfriend…and Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man.

John leaned his head back against the headrest. I wish. He frowned briefly at the thought. If what had happened was just a one-time thing why did he want to be Sherlock’s boyfriend?

He picked up a book and leafed through it waiting for Sherlock to return. He and Mrs. Hudson had searched the flat already but Sherlock was taking a long time to return home even with the snow so it was still possible that he was picking up a stash on his way back. 

He heard footsteps on the stairs. Sherlock came in and didn’t seem to be stoned, but he was quiet as he looked around the flat.

“I hope you didn’t mess up my sock index this time.” Sherlock meandered back to his room. 

John put the book down and rubbed his forehead. Sherlock seemed genuinely upset over Irene’s death. Another thought raced across his mind. Did Sherlock only have sex with John because he was there? Was he really thinking about Irene?

John sighed. Knowing Sherlock that may have been more of the truth than anything.  
John got up and closed and locked the door. He then went to Sherlock’s door and cautiously knocked. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock didn’t answer and so John turned the door handle and found it unlocked. He pushed open the door and peeked inside.

Sherlock hadn’t even bothered to take off his snow clogged coat and boots before collapsing into bed. John shook his head. “Come on Sherlock. I know you’re upset but there’s no reason for you to catch a cold wearing that wet jacket.” He pulled Sherlock into a sitting position and removed the coat and the boots. He even managed to get Sherlock out of his suit jacket before Sherlock collapsed back into bed.

“Come on under the covers.” It took some pulling and maneuvering but John finally got Sherlock under the covers. He went to turn off the light and leave with a pressure on his wrist stopped him. He looked at Sherlock questioningly.

“Stay?” 

The plea was so quiet John thought he must have misheard, but the pressure on his wrist tightened when he went to pull away so instead he moved closer. Sherlock gazed up at him and his blank eyes were unnerving, but clear instead of the glassy look they took on when Sherlock used. John couldn’t find the heart to say no. “Alright, budge over, I’m not sleeping on top of the covers and getting cold.”

Sherlock gave a tiny grin but scooted over. John turned off the light, toed off his shoes, and climbed into bed as well. Sherlock turned his back to him and grabbed John’s arm to pull around his own chest. 

John about drifted off to sleep when he heard a voice. “John?”

“Mmh?”

“Happy Christmas.”

“You too.” John replied sleepily. 

They both fell asleep shortly after.

~~~

Less than a week later Irene revealed herself to be alive and John was furious. For the six days Sherlock was doing nothing but writing sad music and was quieter than usual. Irene had no right to do that to Sherlock. To hurt him like that. He wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. 

If anyone out there still cares, I’m not actually gay.

Well I am. Look at us both.

John snorted at her words when he heard another sound.

Ahh…

John’s face paled. Shit. He had gotten used to that text alert over the past couple of weeks and he knew instantly who was listening in.

He made to run after Sherlock put Irene put up her hand.

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

John only let himself briefly hesitate. He wanted to chase after Sherlock and explain what he meant. Over the past few weeks he figured that he didn’t want any guy. He only wanted Sherlock…that certainly didn’t make him gay. Bi-sexual didn’t seem to fit either. The only bloke he ever felt this for was Sherlock. 

But he needed to tell Sherlock that himself. So he made his way around Irene only sparing her one last look before making his way outside.

He looked around frantically but didn’t see the Sherlock’s coat anywhere. The car pulled back around and John climbed in, hoping to make it back to Baker Street before Sherlock.

Traffic disagreed with him.

~~~

Sherlock had only followed John because the car he climbed into wasn’t one of Mycroft’s. And this worried Sherlock. What if it was him?

So Sherlock followed the car to the warehouse. When he finally reached inside he heard John’s voice shouting.

“What do you normally say?! You’ve texted him A LOT!”

“Just the usual stuff.” Came a familiar woman’s voice. 

Irene.

Not dead then.

Irrelevant.

Sherlock heard John and Irene continue their conversation. He was surprised to hear the jealousy in John’s voice.

Sherlock knew that John thought he was mourning Irene by composing and thinking. Instead Sherlock was thinking about John. 

The morning after Christmas Sherlock had woken up in John’s arms feeling more content than he had ever felt. Over the course of the next few days Sherlock was weighing the pros and cons of starting a relationship with his flat mate. His supposedly straight flat mate. 

Other, smaller, parts of his brain thought about breaking the code to Irene’s phone, but those thoughts were few and far between.

His thoughts were brought back into focus by John’s voice again. 

“Look, who the hell knows about Sherlock Holmes, but if anyone out there still cares, I’m not actually gay.”

Sherlock’s brain immediately shut down. He was only brought back into focus when his phone’s txt alert went off

Ahh…

Sherlock clicked cancel and stalked off. The text was obvious. Irene asking Sherlock to dinner once again. It was obviously a euphemism for sex, which is why he never replied. The text wasn’t worth his time or brainpower.

Instead Sherlock walked home in a daze.

I’m not actually gay. 

John’s words kept playing themselves over and over in his head.

That one night had been a mistake then. The last few days of thinking had been a waste of time. John would never see Sherlock that way.

Sherlock reached his door and almost opened it when something caught his eye. 

The door had been broken down. 

Cautiously Sherlock entered and began analyzing the entry hall like it was a crime scene.

Cleaning supplies: Mrs. Hudson had been cleaning the entryway when the door burst opened. 

Scuff marks on the walls: Someone was struggling up the stairs.

On closer inspection Sherlock found a small dent in the wall, caused by a nail scraping a cross it. 

Sherlock could see it in his mind. Someone thought they could mess with his Mrs. Hudson?

They were dead wrong.

~~~

John had made it back to Baker Street to find a note on the door.

He hadn’t been surprised when the man who had attacked Mrs. Hudson had somehow magically flown out the open window. He continued to comfort Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock insisted that Mrs. Hudson was fine to stay in her own flat and John only agreed after she revealed that she had the phone the whole time. 

Obviously Mrs. Hudson could take care of herself. 

Sherlock and John made their way back up stairs. John poured himself the rest of the wine and tried to engage Sherlock in conversation.

“So she’s alive then? How are we feeling about that?”

“Happy New Year John.”

John had to know. “Do you think you’ll be seeing her again?”

Sherlock didn’t answer and instead began playing “Auld Lang Syne” on his violin. 

John sighed and sat down to gather his thoughts. When Sherlock finished his piece, John spoke up. “Sherlock, about what I said.”

“It’s ok John I understand. No need to worry.”

John stood up. “No you don’t understand. Sherlock, I’m not gay!”

Sherlock looked away and John rushed to finish his sentence. “But I want to be with you. I’m just so confused.”

This time John looked away, his face flushed. This was a lot more awkward than he thought it would be.

Suddenly he felt a hand tilting his chin up and a pair of lips descended upon his.

John kissed back eagerly and it was a long moment before Sherlock pulled away. “How did that make you feel?”

In response, John grinded his hips to Sherlock’s. “How do you think?” Sherlock didn’t say anything so John continued. “God Sherlock! You’re brilliant, fantastic, sometimes you annoy the hell out of me but I can never stay mad for long. You’re wonderful and the only one, man or woman, to every make me feel like this.”

Sherlock seemed to accept this answer and kissed John again.

There was a flurry of movement as clothes went flying on their way back to Sherlock’s bedroom.

Somehow Sherlock’s underpants ended up on the skull.

No one was quite sure how.

~~~

John awoke the next morning once again naked in Sherlock’s bed. This time though Sherlock was awake as well and holding his wrist for a few seconds before letting go and writing something down on a pad of paper. “What are you doing?”

“Taking your resting heart rate. I want to see how much it increases when you’re aroused.” Sherlock pinked a bit. “If that’s alright with you of course. The data might be useful for a case.”

John chuckled. “Oh Sherlock. For you, I’ll donate my body to science any day.”

Sherlock smiled and leaned down to kiss John.

They didn’t move from the room for the whole day.

~~~

Because I took your pulse.

Sherlock remembered how he finally figured out Irene’s passcode. Turns out the data he received from John that day did help in a case. 

After getting home from the airport he regaled John with the story of how he beat the woman while sipping the wine John had brought home earlier that day, from when he first sniffed Irene’s perfume, to her face when Sherlock had held up the phone with the correct password. John had enjoyed the story, and he did want to know what had happened when he popped out to get dinner. 

He was concerned though about Irene, which perplexed Sherlock. When he asked John why, John shrugged. 

“I just think it’s a bit mean is all. Like Molly, you shoved her feelings back in her face.”

“Caring is still a disadvantage John. She lost everything because of it.” Sherlock looked up to see John’s face color and the shorter man adverted his eyes. “Oh don’t be stupid. It just means I’ll have to make sure no one finds out about my disadvantage.”

John huffed out a laugh and leaned down to kiss Sherlock’s forehead. As he walked away he called over his shoulder. “I still wish she’ll be ok though. She did sort of got us together.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but began thinking about Irene’s next move anyway. 

A few weeks later, Sherlock got into position to rescue Irene. It was only fair he supposed. In around about way, Irene did get him and John together. 

Saving her from certain death was the least he could do. He did hate owing people.

Of course he and John couldn’t broadcast their relationship to everyone. Moriarty’s spies were everywhere.

And of course Mycroft knew. But then again trying to keep a secret from Mycroft was like trying to stop the rain from falling.

But then he looked into Irene’s grateful eyes; maybe he could keep this one secret.

He and John weren’t in the clear yet, but they were happy.

And that’s what counted.

**Author's Note:**

> Violet and I have co-authored many stories over the summer, which Violet is posting with vigor as I give her permission (left alone she would post the whole series and then go thru posting withdrawal...). This story, however, was the first we ever co-authored and it also set off another tradition between us: texting stories back and forth. Between our (horrible) summer jobs and families, it made the summer more enjoyable, so posting this story is to celebrate near 6 months of having a co-author of life. Thank you, Violet_Janou


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